


Odds & Ends

by TheoMiller



Category: Knight & Rogue - Hilari Bell
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 18:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2742959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheoMiller/pseuds/TheoMiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just random little scenes I'm almost definitely never gonna write the stories for</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“This,” I said, squinting up through the barred windows at the gallows draped in garlands of white flowers, “has _got_ to be the most ridiculous stunt we’ve pulled yet.”

“You can call me an idiot after we find my brother and stop the wedding,” Michael snapped.

“Well, your paramour has my lock-picking kit, so I’m afraid we’re stuck.”

Michael huffed at me. “She is not my paramour, and I was planning less on picking the lock and more on going through the ceiling; we _must_ to talk to the High Liege.”

Okay, okay, so, maybe I should start a little earlier in the story, because that’ll make more sense. Marginally, really, given that nothing Michael does makes actual _sense_ , but still. Background.

Right, so, here’s what happened.

(Three Weeks Earlier)

“Huh,” Michael said, frowning at the letter he’d gotten.

I glanced up. “What’d Judith say?”

“’Tis not from Judith,” he said. “’Tis actually from Benton. My brother, the one who’s at University?”

“The historian, yeah.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, so I jabbed him with the stick I was using to stir the fire when it started to die. “Apparently Rosamund told him about our, ah, little trick,” he said.

“Does he realize we’re too poor to blackmail?” I asked, only half joking.

“No, he… well, he says his master was called to the university at the High City, and brought him along, since he’s one of the most promising students.”

“Can _we_ blackmail _him_?” I said, and had to duck when he tossed a rabbit’s bone at me. “Okay, okay, all right, no blackmailing him. What’s he want from us?”

“He’s being deliberately vague, but apparently he met a noblewoman, one who is about to be married off to a man she doesn’t love.”

“Oh, hey, no, no-no-no-no, _no_ , Michael, last time we did this, there were pirates involved. Pirates, Michael!”

“Technically,” said Michael, “they were wreckers.”

I groaned and flopped backwards, as Michael continued on about the best route to the High City and how to negotiate betrothals.


	2. always a girl!fisk

I was up fetching drinks when a woman entered the inn, looking altogether too grim for me to be fully comfortable. She was dressed in expensive lavender-hued linen, and evidently could afford for the hem to be ruined by the muddy floors, because she wasn’t hiking up her skirts at all. I ducked my head and hoped she wouldn’t give me a second glance; oftentimes, rich women take offence at women wearing trousers, and a glance at my soft features would give me away, despite my loose tunic.

But she focused on me anyway. “Are you Fisk?” She asked.

“Who’s asking?” I said as neutrally as possible.

“I’m Lady Evelyn,” She said, “And I need your help.”

“With what?” Michael, tuned into my location as he was, had approached and stood beside me now.

She glanced around and sighed. “Not here, please.”

Michael followed her obediently, and after a moment of indecision, I did too. There was a carriage waiting outside, but instead of stopping, Michael went to follow the lady in. I grabbed his arm and dug my heels into the ground so he wouldn’t be able to mistake my purpose. “ _Sir Michael_ ,” I said in a sharp voice. “May I speak to you _privately_ for a moment?”

“Sorry,” He said to the lady, and obliged me with a patient smile. He was pleased to have another adventure, it seemed.

“Are you forgetting Callista? You can’t trust a pretty face, Michael, she could take us to Jack – he may not seek us out, but he won’t miss a chance to get revenge if he can. Have you any idea how much money we cost him when we derailed the wreckers’ plan? A _lot_ of money, possibly more than the reward you _gave away_.”

“What would you have us do?”

“Arrange a meeting in a very loud public place,” I said promptly. “No one will hear us talk, and it’ll significantly lessen the chances of us dying horribly and young.”

The lady huffed, and I turned to see her standing with arms folded within hearing distance. “Very well,” She said.

“Sorry, my squire is rather paranoid,” Michael said, and I stomped on his foot as discreetly as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is fisk a girl? what does lady evelyn want? why is michael being so cursed quiet? the world may never know. i don't even know. *sigh*


	3. Chapter 3

“What’s your business here?” The guard asked, flicking his gaze over me, and then Fisk, and finally over True and the horses.

“We just need rooms for the night,” I said. “There’s a storm coming, and scant other shelter.”

He hesitated, and then his fellow clapped a hand on his shoulder and said something quietly. “Okay,” he said. “But you go direct to Sheriff Stalon when you reach town, you hear? Or we’re gonna have a problem. And trust me, you do not want a problem with Stalon’s deputies.”

With that unsettling warning – unsettling because Fisk and I had a long history of problems with sheriffs – we ventured forth, past the outpost.

“Something’s wrong here,” I said. I’d learnt, with the wreckers, not to ignore my sensing gifts about these sorts of things.

“Kinda guessed for myself,” said Fisk sarcastically, glancing over his shoulder at the guard-station.

“I’ve never seen such a thing, and especially not around such a remote town.”

“Remote towns often don’t get much protection from the liege lords.”

I nodded absently, instead carefully watching the trees that lined the road into town. I was so distracted, in fact, that it was Fisk who alerted me to the presence of the woman.

“Michael,” he said impatiently, and I finally noticed her. She was shivering, dressed in a rose-coloured gown of worn linen.

I immediately hurried to pull off my cloak and drape it over her shoulders, and she regarded me with wide brown eyes that held a strange spark. “Thank you, good sir,” she said, cocking her head. “Are you two heading into town?”

“Yes,” I said.

“We’d best be moving before the storm arrives, then,” she said, and fell into step beside us. “I’m Beth.”

“I’m Michael, and that’s Fisk.”

She turned her gaze on Fisk, who narrowed his eyes at her and said, “What are you doing outside of town right before a storm?”

“I was bringing my brother lunch,” she said, “he works at one of the guard-stations.”

Even Fisk seemed to accept this, for he moved on. “We were told to check in with the sheriff when we get into town,” he said.

“I can do you one better,” she smiled. “I can get you lodgings with the sheriff.”

“Huh?” Fisk and I said simultaneously.

Beth laughed. “When everyone shipped out to the posts, the innkeeper became sheriff. Best one for the job, of course. Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might actually adapt this one into something else than the original plan. Which had a vaguely defined plot????


	4. plague

“You promised you’d stay away,” Fisk whispered.

Michael made a noise that was halfway between hiccup and cough, and then went pale. Fisk wisely jumped out of the way and grabbed a bucket. He pulled the knight’s hair out of his face and rubbed his back. He retched, and his chest spasmed again, but there wasn’t anything left in his stomach. “Fuck,” Michael said weakly.

“Water,” Fisk said. “You need water, and… and a cold cloth, and rest. Rest, Michael. Please.”

“’Twill be all right,” Michael murmured, and collapsed back onto the cot.

Fisk was moving in a flurry, pots clanging together and True under foot. When he went outside to fetch water, he hesitated by the door. The quarantine rules were pretty clear – if someone showed symptoms, you put a red X on the door. When the door slammed behind him on his way back in, there was no red X.


	5. modern au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael owns an Odyssey. Fisk hates his guts.

“What sort of _lunatic_ calls an RV ‘Odyssey’?! Have you _read_ the Odyssey? Everyone on the damned ship dies!”

“Odysseus doesn’t,” Michael said mildly.

I ignored him. “This is absolute bullshit. That judge is out of her mind!”

“Judge Mallory thinks you might be rehabilitated if you work with me, and I’m inclined to agree,” said Michael.

“Probation might not even be worth it,” I muttered, even as I slid into the passenger seat. “Can I drive?”

“Maybe later,” he said, and turned the key in the ignition.


	6. Chapter 6

“Fisk!” Michael called, as he unhooked True’s leash and hung it on the coat rack. “I found us a client.”

“You found us a client at the dog park?” said Fisk. A moment later, he poked his head up from behind the stack of files. “A _paying_ client?” he said.

Michael rolled his eyes at his partner’s unwavering pragmatism, but nodded. “Yes, and yes. You remember the Makejoyes, right?”

“They run the club-bar hybrid where Ruby does entertainment,” said Fisk promptly. “What were they doing at the dog park?”

“They have eight dogs.”

“ _Eight_?” Fisk asked, horrified.

Tipple, Fisk’s cat, meowed as if in agreement from where she was sprawled across an open file folder, shedding like mad.

“Eight,” confirmed Michael.

Fisk shook his head. “So, aside from paying for carpet cleaning on a semi-regular basis, can they afford to pay us our going rate?”

Michael grinned. “ _Plus_ risk pay,” he said.

“Whoa, hang on,” Fisk said. “Risk pay? As in, OSHA would strongly advise any sane person against taking the job sort of risk pay?”

“It’s not the first time we’ve dealt with murderers, Fisk.”

“Yeah, but, if this is anything like our usual stuff, you wouldn’t agree to risk pay. So, what is it? Cannibalism? Michael, I swear to the gods, if it’s cannibalism, we’re moving to Florida and opening a florist shop, I have dealt with rabid animals and mad scientists and arson and actual, literal _pirates_ , but I draw the line at cannibalism.”

Michael waited patiently for him to finish. “It’s just a murderer who abducts gay couples. We don’t even know if it’s a serial killer yet, they’ve only found the first couple. The second couple’s still missing. For all we know, they ran off to Atlantic City and got married.”

“Oh,” said Fisk. “Then why’d you accept risk pay?”

“To get you to agree to go undercover as my fiancé,” Michael said.

Fisk squinted at him. “How much money?”

“500 a day, and it goes up to 750 if the second couple is found dead, or another two go missing.”

“Okay,” said Fisk. “On one condition.”

“Anything,” said Michael, just to annoy Fisk. He’d gotten several lectures on why saying _anything_ during a negotiation is the most ridiculous thing he could possibly do.

“Don’t tell my sister.”


End file.
